


Authors Eat Free

by petticoatxperfect



Series: As Autumn leaves fall, I whisper "I love you" [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Caught in the Rain, Coffee Shop, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, First Date, Fluffy, I might turn this work into a series, Love at First Sight, M/M, One Shot, coffee shop AU, its pretty short, like its really just fluff, this is my first fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petticoatxperfect/pseuds/petticoatxperfect
Summary: Struggling author Castiel Novak just can't catch a break. Unable to meet his deadlines while tackling a serious case of writer's block, he finds himself stuck in the middle of a terrible storm, unable to get home in time to send his agent his next chapter. When all hope is seemingly lost, he takes refuge in a small cafe, and meets a handsome stranger. The stranger sparks something inside Castiel as they settle in for a harsh monsoon.Perhaps this chance meeting will blossom into something more?





	1. The Rain Plays Games

Castiel Novak lifted his notebook over his head, doing his best to protect his himself from the miserable downpour. He had been on the public bus when the sky opened itself and began to rain, underdressed in only a light button down and slacks. Cold seeped into his bones, forcing his jaw to rattle like crazy, as he practically sprinted through downtown. Water spattered the hems of his pants and his glasses grew obscured with droplets, hindering his sight.

 _Brilliant,_ Castiel thought bitterly to himself. _If I get sick and delay my deadline again, Anna will gut me for sure._

While part of him wanted to grit his teeth and just get back to his apartment as fast as possible, hiding in a shop until the worst of the storm passed sounded like a good idea too. Frustration simmered in Castiel’s chest. Getting caught in the rain can be wonderful, but not when its frigid, dark, and completely unexpected.

Against his better judgement, he found the nearest café and ducked inside.

Compared to the volatile outdoors, the café was a haven.

The shop was small, but cozy, with couches and tables jammed where ever they may fit. Fairy lights were hung expertly along the ceiling offering a comforting glow amidst the grey weather. Each of the four walls in the shop were covered with shelves upon shelves of books.

Castiel let out a shuddering breath, water dripping from his nose and hair. There was no one behind the counter, but faint singing from the back room let Castiel know the shop was not completely empty.

“I’ll be with you in a minute!” The voice called. The smell of pumpkin and chocolate wafted from the back, and Castiel could practically feel his mouth water.

“Take your time,” he called back, rubbing his goose-bump covered arms through his soaked shirt.

 The café was empty, despite the neon “open” sign that hung in the giant front window. Castiel regarded his sopping notebook. The cover was soaked, but most of the paper with his copious notes were dry. The notes detailed a new chapter in Castiel’s novel, all conceptual and most likely to be scrapped once he sat down at his computer.

His agent, Anna, was pushing him to finish at least six more chapters so that she could pitch his novel to a couple editors, but Castiel’s creative flow had become stagnant. He tried to blame it on the terrible weather and writer’s block, but Anna was not having any of it. She started giving Castiel deadlines to finish chapters in an attempt to pump out more progress, but the result was not what she expected. Every time a deadline neared, Castiel would call her just before the arrived and ask for an extension. So far, Castiel had only written three of the ten chapters planned. The cycle was exhausting for both of them, but it gave Castiel more time to get his shit together.

Castiel wiped his glasses before checking his watch impatiently. 7:01pm. His next deadline was tonight at ten, and Castiel vowed not call Anna for another extension. He did not want to push his luck anymore. His exasperation fluctuated, the steady pounding of the rain reminding him of every source of anxiety in his life.

Running a hand through his wet hair, Castiel let out a defeated groan, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Uh, excuse me?” A voice asked. “Can I help you?”

Opening one eye, Castiel glanced at the owner of the voice.

A young man with close cropped blond hair was looking at him with a raised eyebrow from behind the counter. His green eyes glinted with mischief, as his eyes raked over Castiel’s frazzled form. A small smile twisted at his plump lips. The warm light of the café illuminated every freckle on the man’s cheeks, and sharpened the contours of his face. The stranger’s figure was cut from marble, and Castiel was staring a bit because _holy fuck_ this guy was _beautiful._

“I, um…” Castiel babbled. “I was just, uh, waiting for the storm to… pass.” _Yeah, real fucking smooth Cassie._

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad out there, isn’t it?” The man said conversationally, and Castiel did his best to gather his wits.

“It is, and I’m not very prepared, as you can see.” He gestured to his soaked through clothing with his notebook.

The man laughed, and Castiel did not miss the way his eyes wandered up and down his body. His gaze lingered on the wet shirt that stuck to Castiel’s chest. “I checked the weather today,” he said. “its not suppose to pass for another couple hours.”

“What?” Castiel’s blood went cold _. A few hours?_ The deadline. The novel. Anna. Oh no, Castiel was a dead man.

“Why? Is everything okay?” Confusion marred the pretty man’s pretty face.

Castiel put his face in his hands. “It’s nothing, I just have some business I have to attend to. This rain is far more problematic than I expected.”

“Alright,” The man smirked, pulling a towel out from under the counter. “How about I whip you up something hot to drink, and you tell me all about your problems?”

Castiel lifted his head and smiled. “That’d be really wonderful. Thank you.”

“No problem.” The man shrugged. “The name’s Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester.” He reached over the counter, offering the towel.

“Castiel Novak,” Castiel answered, taking it gratefully.

Dean hummed back. “Castiel.”

…

Half an hour later, Castiel found himself sitting at a table across from Dean, semi-dry, clutching a hot coffee and a double chocolate chip pumpkin muffin. He told Dean about everything. The novel plus his deadlines, Anna breathing down his neck, and his heavy writers block.

“Huh. That really is something.” Dean commented, sipping his black coffee.

“I know,” Castiel busied himself by tearing off the paper wrapping of the muffin. It was freshly baked and still warm. “It didn’t hit me like a wave. It was like, everyday I felt myself losing whatever drive or inspiration I had in the first place to start the book. It was like I lost my wings.”

Dean nodded, watching Castiel’s hands intently. “What exactly inspired you to start writing a novel?”

Castiel shrugged, ripping off a chunk of muffin. “You know, the usual, world-shattering heart break and such.” He popped the piece of muffin into his mouth and moaned at the taste. It was _orgasmic._

“Is it really that good?” Dean asked, chuckling quietly around the brim of his mug.

“This is possibly the best muffin I’ve ever had,” Castiel said through his full mouth.

Dean grinned. “That’s good to know. It’s a new recipe I’ve been working on, and I’m still figuring out the right measurements. There’s usually never enough nutmeg, or too much vanilla.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “You created your own recipe?”

“Yup,” Dean said, trying his best to look modest.

“That’s fucking incredible,” Castiel tore off more of the muffin and ate quickly, surprised at his sudden hunger. “So, is this place yours?”

Dean shook his head. “My friend, Charlie, she owns the place with her girlfriend. She had an emergency at home and asked me to cover the place until closing.” He sipped more of his coffee. “I’m actually a teacher at the local high school.”

“Really?” Castiel swallowed. “What do you teach?”

“Art history,” he replied. “So, its basically an hour of me going on and on about why Pablo Picasso was a brilliant artist, but actually a massive douchebag.”

Castiel let out a surprised laugh, shaking his head. He can feel Dean staring at him as he throws his head back, and quickly moves on. “It must be wonderful, though, teaching about what you love.”

“It really is,” Dean sits forward, his eyes alight, “but only when my students aren’t being little shits. When they focus, its golden.”

A warm smile works its way from Castiel’s chest, burning through his anxiety and almost making him forget about his problems.

He looks up and catches Dean’s gaze for a minute. An easy silence settles as Castiel profiles every feature on Dean’s face.

He should stop himself, since falling in love with a stranger at a coffee shop is the most stereotypical thing Castiel could do, but there is something to wonderfully gentle about Dean, and everything he does. Falling isn’t the right word. Falling implies that Castiel was taken by surprise, and if he was being honest, from the moment Castiel laid eyes on Dean, he knew something was different. It was as though they were destined to meet, they just simply never had the chance, until this evening.

They continued talking about art and literature. The topic changed and they spoke about each other’s lives. Castiel lamented about how the current piece he was working on would never reach the same status as his first published novel. Dean told Castiel about his brother, who had just graduated from law school and told hilarious stories about his troublesome students.

The conversation flowed onto trivial topics until Dean broke eye contact and glanced at the front window. “Would you look at that, the end of the monsoon has arrived.”

Castiel turned and saw that the rain had indeed stopped, but it was still dark out, and a cold mist had settled just above the pavement. He quickly glanced at his watch. 9:23pm. thirty minutes until his deadline.

Comfortable dread eased its way into Castiel’s stomach alongside the double chocolate chip muffin. He let out a sigh and slumped back in his chair a little.

Dean coughed a little to get his attention.

“You know,” he began. “The shop’s been dead since six. I was thinking about closing up early.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow.

“So,” Dean continued. “If you need, I can give you a ride to your place. If I drive fast enough, you might have sometime to finish up a chapter and meet the deadline.”

Castiel perked up. “Really?” his back straightened, ready to jump up and go.

Dean nodded, already shrugging on his jacket.

They both jumped up and Castiel pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He reached in and pulled out a crumpled five, ready to hand it to Dean, but was stopped by gentle, calloused hands.

“Its okay,” Dean said softly, glancing down at their hands. “The coffee and muffin are on me. Don’t worry.”

“Dean-” Castiel started, but he cut him off.

“No, Cas, I insist” Dean still held onto Castiel’s hand. “Plus, its an unspoken rule around here that artists and authors eat free.”

Castiel quirked his eyebrows at the nickname, but let Dean lead him out the door. They stopped just outside so that Dean could lock up the café for the night. As they walked towards Dean’s car, cold immediately began to seep through Castiel’s thin shirt, biting at his skin. He shuddered involuntarily.

Dean took notice. “It’s really cold out, are you alright?”

“Huh?” Castiel’s teeth clacked together. “Ye-eah, I’ll be ok-kay once we get to the car.”

Dean huffed, his breath fogging out in front of him. Wordlessly, he slipped off his jacket and rested it on Castiel’s shoulders. The warmth from the leather jacket was surprising, but welcomed. It smelled like pine and fresh soil, mixed with whatever aftershave Dean used.

“Thanks,” Castiel murmured. “But what about you? Aren’t you cold?”

Dean shook his head as they crossed the street and stopped at a big, black muscle car. Castiel let out a low whistle as they climbed into the front seat. The inside was as sleek as the outside.

After giving Dean the directions to his apartment, they sat in companionable silence. Orange light from the streetlamps occasionally flashed in the car, and Castiel allowed himself to steal a few glances at Dean. With each moment that passed, Castiel found himself perpetually learning more about Dean through simple observations. The crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes meant that he laughed and smile frequently. His rough hands that gripped the steering wheel showed years of hard manual work. Dean was the type of story that Castiel wanted to read.

He had been staring too long. Dean glanced over and let a small smile wander over his lips, reading through Castiel’s inquisitive eyes.

Castiel smiled back and looked away, already feeling a soft flush warming his cheeks.

About five minutes later, Castiel’s apartment complex came into view. There was a hollow feeling in his chest. Even though his deadline was ten minutes away, Castiel would have rather stayed with Dean for the rest of the night.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said, gently shrugging off the leather Jacket. “For the coffee, and the ride.”

“No problem,” Dean replied. There was a glint in his eye, as though he wanted to say more, but in the end said nothing.

Castiel got out of the car. He shut the door and leaned over, stooping so that he could look at Dean one last time.

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel whispered, drinking in the way Dean’s hair shone in the artificial lamp light.

He swallowed before responding. “Goodnight, Cas.”

Silence. Castiel turned and started up the concrete staircase to his apartment, the hollowness in his chest growing exponentially. Perhaps Dean was a story that Castiel was not going to read after all. The hollow feeling digressed into downright sadness.

“Wait!” Dean called.

Castiel turned quickly, already halfway up the stairs. Dean had gotten out of his car and was now walking up the stairs.

“What is it, Dean?” The pit in Castiel’s stomach seemed on fire with sudden hope.

He stopped a couple steps below, looking up at Castiel with those big green eyes. “I know you have a deadline, Cas, but I don’t want tonight to be over. I want-.” He stuttered for a second. “I want to meet up again.”

It took everything for Castiel not breathe out a sigh of relief. “Of course. You have no idea how much I would love that.”

Where Castiel had opted to be discrete, Dean let out a sharp, breathy laugh and tilted his head back. “Thank God. I didn’t want to completely blow it with you and move so fast, but the idea that tonight is the first and last time I get to see you is devastating.”

Castiel smiled, chuckling. “When do you want to meet? Next week?”

“Next week works out for me. How about Friday?” Dean asked.

“Friday is fine. We can meet at the café around six pm. There’s a great Italian place just around the corner from there.” Castiel supplied.

Dean nodded. “Alright, it’s a date.”

Castiel paused, his breath hitching. _Is it?_

“Everything okay?” He sounded cautious, as though worried Castiel would back out of their date.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he quickly recovered. “It’s just that I haven’t been on a date in a while. It’s a nice change to have something to look forward to.”

A grin broke out on Dean’s face. “I mean, technically, you could consider tonight to be our first date. Just pretend we planned meeting up, and that I paid for our meal.”

Castiel snorted. “Well, this has been a fantastic first date, Dean.” With a stroke of spontaneity, he stooped a little to reach Dean on the lower step, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, Castiel ducked away, turning and continuing up the stairs. Dean was left there with his eyes almost comically wide, and his mouth hanging slack.

“Goodnight, Dean!” Castiel called out once he reached the front door.

Dean managed to snap out of his stupor. “Goodnight, Cas!”

A giddy smile danced on Castiel’s lips as he shut the building’s front door. He watched Dean return to his car and speed off.

The main lobby’s clock read 9:39pm. Castiel felt a jolt. Twenty minutes.

Wasting no more time, he sprinted across the lobby and opted to take the stairs. Taking each step two at a time, ideas began to flow through Castiel’s head like water bursting forth from a broken dam.

Relieved elation flooded Castiel’s chest, and he let out a laugh. He could practically feel inspiration flowing through his veins.

Every thought that Castiel had some how linked back to Dean. It was strange, that after a single meeting, Castiel had managed to break through his writer’s block. Perhaps that was the effect Dean had on Castiel.

Bursting through into his apartment, Castiel ran to his desk and threw himself into the seat. He opened up an unfinished chapter on his laptop and began to type. About an hour later, he sent Anna the document. It was thirty minutes over the deadline, but was quite possibly one of the best things Castiel had ever written. 

And he had Dean Winchester to thank for that.


	2. Of Late Nights and Crushes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like, I've decided to try and mesh all the works together into a single work with chapters and everything :^)

Dean Winchester considered himself a rational man. A bit gruff sometimes, and all things considered, rather closed-off. He was usually level headed, with only the occasional outburst of emotion. He always thought that if put in a stressful or compromising situation, he’d have a reasonable, well-paced thought pattern, and a quick, witty retort.

Boy, he could not have been more wrong.

Charlie had called him just after classes ended in a near hysteric fit. From her heaving sobs, Dean had managed to put together that her girlfriend, Dorothy, had been transported to hospital after a minor car accident. Dean did not have to think twice. He grabbed his jacket and drove straight over to the café.

Dean arrived just as Charlie was leaving. She looked practically ill with fright. Pale, puffy eyed, and violently shaking, she tossed him the keys to the shop and left without a word.

The crowd of people that occupied the café all fled once the downpour kicked in. The tables and chairs remained hauntingly empty, with the only noise that comforted Dean being the unnerving hum of the vending machine mixed with the steady patter of rain on the roof.

Two hours of idle cleaning and baking dripped by, until a strange man burst into the shop, completely soaked through to the bone.

The moment Dean laid eyes on the stranger, he felt something in his chest unlock. A wave of feelings and sensations rolled over him like nothing before. Dean was unsure what this _something_ was, and he spent the rest of the night quietly attempting to label this feeling that rattled his chest and weakened his knees.

And after Castiel Novak gave him the most innocent of kisses in the history of existence, Dean could feel his body began to shut down. Skin flushed, mouth hanging open, Dean stood there, heart slamming into his rib cage like a bird trying to free itself. It was as though he turned into one of his awkward, gawking high school students.

Whatever coarse exterior he always wore seemed to melt away for Castiel. Dean found himself eager to tell this complete stranger everything about himself, which was equal parts thrilling and frightening.

While driving home, Dean’s thoughts were filled with mindless radio chatter, bright blue eyes, and chapped lips that brushed against his. The crisp evening air helped clear his head. Night had completely engulfed the city of Fairhaven, with downtown’s streets so empty Dean could hear the ocean waves crashing a few kilometers away. The Impala’s radio screeched as an old song by the Carpenters blared.

He drove a few minutes away from the city’s center into suburbia. The street was lined with both modest two stories and intricate Victorian styled ones.

A twinge of excitement flickered through Dean as he remembered what Cas had said.

Next Friday, 6:00pm, at the café. 

Part of Dean wanted to play it cool and another part wanted to wind the windows down and let out hoots of joy. He settled for singing along to Karen Carpenter’s low and sultry tune.

Dean arrived home around ten. His house was completely dark, but he could not be bothered to turn on the lights. The events of the day swept through him, and Dean could feel the exhaustion in his bones as he trudged up the stairs. After showering quickly, Dean slipped into a thin t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, before collapsing face first into bed. His thoughts were filled with Castiel.

The way he always looked down when he wanted to smile. How he tilts his head to the side and squints his eyes whenever confused or unsure. Dean found himself replaying the moment Castiel kissed him over and over again.

Thirty minutes later, sleep finally found Dean.

~***~

“Excuse me, but _what the hell?”_ Whatever panic that seized Charlie yesterday had been remedied after she learned Dorothy just had minor cuts and bruises. Since he still had the shop key, Dean met her up with her early the next day to return it. As Charlie was whipping him up a complementary coffee, he was caught between explaining what happened yesterday and keep his mouth shut.

Dean opted for the prior option, and regretted it almost immediately.

“Charlie, please keep your voice down,” he hissed, glancing around at the half empty café.

She scoffed, an incredulous smile working its way to her lips. “That’s insane. I’m gone for a few hours and you fall in love. With New York Times, bestselling author Castiel Novak of all people. Unbelievable.”

“I know,” Dean said, running his hand through his hair. “I had no idea he was such a popular author until I searched him up last night. His last book sold over one hundred million copies world wide. _One hundred million_ , Charlie.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I have a copy somewhere around the shop. It’s riveting, man. ‘Forbidden’ love between men and between women during World War Two. All fictional characters, but still based in truth.”

“Is it good?”

“Good? It’s fucking fantastic. I know you don’t like reading all that much, but you should give it a try. Here.” Charlie moved to one of the book shelves, scanning its contents before pulling out a thick paperback. Its cover was black and white with thick gold lettering across the top. The main image depicted a collage of men and women in army clothes. The name _Castiel J. Novak_ stood out in shimmering font underneath the title.

“ _Unprecedented; Stories of love and sacrifice._ Huh. Sounds like a tear-jerker.” Dean flipped the book over to read the synopsis, ignoring the jump in his throat when he saw Castiel’s name.

Charlie nodded. “It is. I bawled my eyes out for an hour when I finished it. But it’s one of the best books I’ve ever read.”

“Alright,” Dean said, slipping it into his satchel. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll bring it back as soon as I finish.”

“So? Are you nervous about the date?” Charlie asked as she poured the black coffee into a tall cup. “I know what you’re like. You get all tense and steely when you’re nervous. Plus, it’s been awhile since you’ve gone on a date.”

“I know, but I’m not nervous.” Dean paused. “Not that much, anyway.”

Charlie grinned. “Of course, you are. The date’s this Friday, right? Don’t stress yourself out for the time being. You already have enough to worry about, with that parent-teacher meeting thing next week and the student led gallery. This date should be the last thing on your mind.”

“Yeah,” Dean hummed in agreement, his eyes clouded with thought. “But, this needs to be perfect. I really like him, Charlie, and I can’t fuck up. I’ve never felt this much for someone, and this feels like the start of something maybe bigger than a single date, or a one-night stand. That’s something I’ve never had before. Its fucking terrifying.”

Charlie whistled. “Goddamn, you’ve fallen hard, Winchester.”

Dean paused before groaning, dropping his head into his hands. “I’m screwed.”

“Hey now,” Charlie reached over the counter to pat his shoulder consolingly. “What did I literally just say? Don’t stress out.”

“How am I going to do that?” Dean asked through grit teeth, nerves starting to fray. “You said it yourself its been months since my last date, and do you _remember_ how that went?” They shuddered in union at the thought. “Charlie, maybe I should- “

“Dean,” Charlie cut him off sternly. “Snap out of it. It’s going to be fine. Just act like how you usually do. Stoic, charming, all that jazz. You should woo him a little, treat him right and what not. Romance him like how I romanced Dorothy.”

As though on cue, Dorothy poked her head out from the back room. “You threw a phone book at my head the first time we met, Charlie. I’d hardly call that romance.”

Charlie scoffed. “But did it work?”

“That’s not the point.” Dorothy entered, carrying a small basket of pumpkin-spice flavoured caramels. There was a purpled bruised that marred her forehead, and angry little cuts peppered her face. Other than those obvious injuries, Dorothy seemed right as rain. She directed her attention to Dean. “Charlie is right though, about acting naturally. The last thing you want is to pretend that you’re someone you aren’t.”

“Yeah,” Charlie nodded seriously, handing Dean the disposable coffee cup. “But honestly. You gotta romance him. Flowers, chocolates, the whole production. It’s what celebrities like him do.”

Dorothy batted at her with a free hand as Dean snickered. “Class is going to start soon. I’ll catch you two later.”

“See you, Dean! Call me after the date! I want to know everything!” Charlie called as Dorothy started throwing the caramels at her.

~***~

Castiel was scheduled to meet Anna that same morning Dean met with Charlie and Dorothy at the café. Anna had emailed him back almost immediately after Castiel sent her the new document, declaring that they needed to meet the next morning as soon as possible. Over what, Castiel had no idea. Perhaps Anna simply wanted to tell him in person that she was surprised he even made the deadline. Maybe what he wrote was so terrible, Anna wanted to berate Castiel in person.

That thought made Castiel chuckle as he crossed the street. The sidewalks and pavement where still wet from the rain, but the sun still peaked through the thick clouds. Morning air was still cold and a little brisk, tinged with the smell of wet earth. Every tree that lined the streets was a luscious shade of orange or red, sparkling against the sunlight. Fall had managed to creep up on Castiel, September falling away to make room for October. Shop windows were being decorated with cut out jack-o-lanterns and black and orange tinsel.

Fairhaven was always the spectacle when it came to holidays. Autumn brought with it warm colours and Halloween, the town even more beautiful and picturesque than before.

 Castiel smiled as he passed a small cluster of pumpkins strategically placed on a bookstore’s stoop. The memory of last night’s chocolate pumpkin muffins swirled with the sensations and feelings of Dean Winchester. Everything about Dean reminded Castiel of Autumn. His hair was golden like how October sun before dusk. The leather musk of his jacket and car felt like home and cozy nights. Each freckle that dotted his cheeks were reminders of sun stains after summer.

Laughter bubbled up in Castiel. Laughter that was rooted in excited wonderment for Dean Winchester. Was this a crush? Did Castiel Novak have a grade school crush on a boy? The absurdity of it all made him shake his head in disbelief.

God, a crush.

A crush on _Dean Winchester._

~****~

Anna Milton’s office was an industrial, red bricked, warehouse. It was retro fitted to accommodate an office space for modern day work and proficiency. Castiel could appreciate the strong aesthetic that radiated from the building; almost bohemian or hipster, but all the while fetching.

Inside the building, employees worked as one, marvellously well-oiled machine. Fast-paced, and somewhat chaotic, interns ran about, arms laden with papers, and people at desks looked as stressed as can be.

Castiel made a beeline for the elevator to avoid being in the way, or being swept up in the constant calamity.

As oppose to the main floor, Anna’s office was calm as it was quiet. A simple room with white accents and accessories, Anna had opted for Zen amidst a bustling business.

Despite the office door being left ajar, Castiel knocked tentatively before poking his head in. “Hello? Anna?”

She looked up from her desk. Anna Milton was a cool-headed, quick-witted kind of woman. She was known for silencing rooms without words and exuding quiet power that brought everyone’s attention to her. Castiel admired her perseverance and passion for literature. He was surprised Anna still wanted to pitch his book, after all the strife he’s caused her with late deadlines. They were good friends, but Castiel knew he could be a pain in her ass.

“Castiel! I’m glad you could make it,” she shut her laptop and took off her glasses. Anna wore her fiery hair loose, falling about her sweater-clad shoulders. “Please, take a seat.”

Castiel bite down nerves as he sat down. Anna had a pen in her hand and a notebook open, that always meant she was writing down scathing critique.

“So, Castiel, I reviewed the work you sent me last night,” Anna folded her hands together. “And I have it admit, I’m rather shocked.”

Wincing internally, Castiel let out a heavy sigh. “Really?”

“Yes,” Anna continued slowly. “There’s no easy way to say this, but I haven’t received that level of work from you in a while.”

Castiel let his shoulders sag. “I know, Anna, and I-“

“It was fantastic, Cas.” She cut in, eyes lighting up and lips twisting into a smile. “I didn’t know what I was expecting. I thought you were going to push the deadline again, but you sent me that document last night, albeit a few minutes late. I’m not going to sugar coat it, Cas, I was deathly worried. After the last draft you sent me… I was hesitant, hell, I didn’t think we’d be able to make a pitch. But last night, I was downright thrilled when I read your document, Cas. It’s _phenomenal_.” Anna leaned back.

“Re-really?” Castiel was utterly gobsmacked.

Anna chuckled. “Most definitely. A few more chapters, I think we’ll be able to pitch.”

Relief washed over Castiel like Sunday rain. “Oh my god, Anna, do you really think so?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t lie,” Anna shrugged before changing her demeanour. She leaned forward on her elbows, curiosity glittering in her eyes. “I don’t mean to pry Cas, but, I’ve known you for quite some time. What exactly happened? When we talked a week ago, you seemed restless. Kind of drained. I assumed you were going to push this deadline.”

“Oh, well, uh,” Castiel stumbled, unsure about mentioning Dean. Would Anna care that Dean was a boy? Throwing caution into the wind, he spoke up. “I met someone just last night, they sparked something inside me. They’re like my muse, I suppose.”

 “A muse?” Anna raised her eyebrows. “Damn, she must be pretty special.”

“She’s a he, actually.” Castiel corrected hesitantly.

Anna nodded. “Well, you better hold onto him, Cas, I want to see more work like this.” She tapped the lid of her laptop.

Castiel let out the small breathy laugh he had been holding onto. “Believe me Anna, I’m planning on it.”

“Good,” Anna said, before grinning and continuing to probe. “So, what’s his name?”

“Dean,” Castiel gushed, indulging in his crush. “Dean Winchester. He’s the art teacher at the local high school.”

Anna’s eyebrows raised again as her whole face erupted into a smile. “Dean Winchester? I’ve heard of him. My niece has him as a teacher. He’s a sweet guy, Cas.”

“I know,” Castiel had to hold back a sigh. “He’s so wonderful Anna, we met last night during the storm. It was obscenely romantic.”

“Damn,” Anna snickered. “Start from the beginning, and go slow.”

Castiel laughed before plunging into his story.


	3. Heat of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late late late I know, but life is real hard rn. Enjoy, please comment to tell what you think!

Dean stood in front of the bathroom mirror. Steam curled around the partially foggy mirror while he contemplated what to do with his hair. It had already been twenty minutes, and Dean was no closer to a decision. Should he style it? Let it stay natural? Why was he so split?

“Dean! It’s already five forty!” Sam yelled from downstairs.

“Alright! I’m almost done!” He shouted back, picking up gel to run through his hair. Quickly exiting the bathroom, Dean went to change from sweatpants to date clothes.

Friday night had come much faster than anticipated. Wednesday and Thursday flew by and now Dean found himself divided between his favourite denim button down, and a faded dark green sweater Aunt Ellen had bought him last Winter. Both outfits were laid on the bed, While Dean stood, regarding each outfit critically. He wanted to look good, but not like he was trying. He wanted to look laid back, but not lazy. Dean felt frustration bubble in his chest.

 There was a knock at the door. “Dean?” Jo called from the other side. “Are you clothed? Can I come in?”

"Yeah, Jo. Come one in,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jo poked her head in before entering. She had her blonde hair tied up and a thick sketchbook tucked under her arm. She grinned while surveying the mess of clothes on the bed. “How’s it going?”

Dean let out a sigh. “Which one?” He waved his arm to the pile.

Jo’s smile widened before moving to the bed, picking up the denim shirt and tossing it to him. She turned to the closet and threw it open, scanning the tie rack before pulling out a maroon tie. “And this.”

“Really?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t a tie a little too much? For a date?”

Jo scoffed. “It’s not just a _date_ , Dean. This is the first actual date you’re going to gave with this guy. You have to put _some_ effort into what you’re wearing. It’s the first impression.” She pulled out a solid maroon tie. “Here, this one matches the shirt. The black jeans you have on right now should be fine.”

A quizzical eyebrow raised, Dean took the clothes. He had to admit, having Jo or Sam help pick out clothes was always a relief. He felt out of body and out of his mind when it came to dressing up for events or dates. Sizing up the outfit, Dean let out a low whistle “You know your stuff, kid.”

Jo shrugged. “Your art classes can come in handy sometimes. Mostly when it comes to colour co-ordinating.”

“’Sometimes?’ You wound me, Jo,” He replied, slipping on the button down. Jo was one of Dean’s best students. She had mastered technique and her own style in the four years of high school that had passed, and now entered her last year of high school. From what Ellen told him, Jo had her sights set on a design school further south near California. Dean couldn’t be prouder of her.

“Come on, you know I’m only kidding,” Jo smirked before changing her demeanor completely. A deadly serious look crossed her face. “So, are you ready for tonight? Are you nervous? Shaking?”

Dean let out an exasperated sigh. “What is it with everyone thinking I can’t handle this one date? First Charlie, now you- “

“-I don’t mean anything by it, Dean,” Jo cut him off placatingly. “It’s just that… we know what you can be like sometimes.”

He scoffed, arms crossing. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Jo rubbed the back of her neck. “You have a minor tendency to get rather, uh, distant with people who try to get close. We -Sam, Charlie and I- noticed that you’re really emotionally…”

Dean waited for her to finish.

“emotionally… stunted.” Jo managed.

“What?” Dean was mildly taken aback.

 “You know, emotionally crippled, constipated, inept, inexperienced, etcetera.” Jo stuttered a little, cringing at her own bluntness. “We were all there during your rocky relationships, and we think that, maybe, you’ve been closing yourself off when it comes to stuff like, romance and whatnot. Because of your past breakups.”

Dean could feel himself shaking his head. “I can’t believe this. Are you three _still_ discussing my love life? That’s insane. Y’all need to mind your own damn business.”

“I know, I know-” Jo started.

“- And what do you mean by past breakups?” Dean hated the way his voice sounded high and defensive.

Jo shifted before counting off names on her fingers. “Well, there was Cassie, Bela, Tessa, Carmen, Lisa...”

Dean waved her off. “Irrelevant. Those were years ago. I’ve changed. Believe me, I have.”

“I know, Dean.” Jo placed a hand on his shoulder. “We all know you’ve changed. But we aren’t sure its for the better. You’re so hard to read sometimes, and you get all cold and unresponsive. It makes us worry when we can’t get through to you. We want you to be happy, and that’s why we stick our noses in your business. Because we’re family, and we care about you.”

“Thanks, Jo. That means a lot.” Dean smiled, before narrowing his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I’m cool with you Sam, and Charlie talking about me behind my back.”

Jo rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Alright, duly noted.”

There was another knock at the door. Sam poked his head in. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jo answered. “Dean’s just expressing his distaste for us and our rampant gossiping and shit talking. Nothing new.”

Sam cringed a little, stepping into the room. “Right, yeah, sorry about that, Dean.”

“No problem,” Dean sighed, turning to the dresser mirror to tie the maroon tie. “I suppose I should be use to it. The senior art class this year is full of nosey little…”

“Assholes?” Jo finished for Dean. “I know that I’m in that class and should be offended, but it’s really true.”

“Wow, is it that bad?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “I’ve had worse students. This class is the cream of the crop when it comes to technical art skill.” His hands fumbled over the fabric, unsure about the knot. “They’ve all got talent and a few fresh ideas. If only they’d shut up occasionally.”

Jo snorted as Sam squinted at the tie hanging around Dean’s neck. “That doesn’t look right, Dean. Here.” He took the tie from Dean and slipped in under the collar of his own shirt. As Sam tied the piece of cloth, Jo pulled out her sketchbook.

“Yo, I had a question about this month’s assignment.” She flipped it open to a page covered in miscellaneous doodles. “I get the parameters; monochromatic using only one colour, acrylic, 25 by 20-inch canvas and whatnot. What’s confusing me is what you said to conceptualize something you love? What does that even mean, Dean?”

“Well,” Dean contemplated his answer. “What I wanted was for you to take something in your everyday life and see it from a new perspective. Take the ordinary and see it with new eyes. It really is up for personal interpretation, and I want to see the difference between everyone’s views.”

Jo groaned. “Please, Dean. I’m going completely crazy with this assignment. It’s so _vague_.”

“That’s the point, Jo,” he replied. “I want to see each student’s different ideas. You all have the technical skill, but it’s time to demonstrate your creativity. On your own.”

Gently thwacking her forehead against the sketchbook, Jo muttered some words along the lines of “Jesus Christ, you are so freaking unhelpful.”

“Alright, there we go,” Sam finished knotting the tie before sliding it off his neck and passing it to Dean.

Dean took the tie gratefully. “Awesome. Thanks, man. I don’t-”

“-Know what you’d do without us, yeah, we get it.” Sam grinned, admiring his handy work that now hung on Dean’s neck.

“He’d probably spontaneously combust or fall apart.” Jo stated, not looking up from her sketchbook. “I think it’s part of the job as family, we have to make sure you look good for dates and shit. Sam, he was going to pick that old moth-eaten sweater my mum got him ages ago.”

Sam’s face scrunched up in distaste as he moved to picked up the garment. “Really, Dean? You wear that thing everywhere. Even to bed. And I’m fairly certain I threw that thing in the garbage two months ago.”

“Hey! It has sentimental value!” Dean quickly snatched it up from the bed, away from Sam. “It was a mistake, I understand that now.”

Jo snickered while holding up her fist. “Good. We’ve done our job well, Sam.”

They bumped knuckles while Dean rolled his eyes into oblivion. He checked his wrist watch and cursed softly.

“Christ, I’m going to be late if I don’t get a move on.” Dean gathered his leather jacket and they all exited the room. “I’ll be back before or around eleven. Don’t wait up though, Sam. And make sure Jo gets home safe.”

Jo squinted. “I live like, just across the street, I’ll be fine.”

“I know, but it doesn’t hurt to be safe.” Dean said. “Plus, I know the kind of trouble you can get into-”

“-Dean, I already apologized a million times to Mr. Turner about the whole cat-and-baseball-bat incident, but I _swear_ I thought Muffins was a cougar! If I- “

“I’ll make sure she’s safe, don’t worry,” Sam cut in before Jo could defend herself further. Jo let out a dramatic sigh before plopping down on the couch.

“Great,” Dean checked his pockets. Keys, wallet, phone, he seemed to have everything. He swallowed thickly. “Alright then. I think that’s it.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, a small smile twisting his lips. “You okay, man?”

“Ye-yeah,” Dean plastered on an easy smile and thick confidence. “I got this, don’t worry about me.”

“Right,” Sam didn’t sound convinced. “Have a good time, okay?”

Dean nodded. “Thanks, man. I will.”

Sam shut the door behind Dean, and listened to the Impala roar as he drove away, into the night. Behind the wheel, a flurry of emotions created a hurricane inside Dean’s chest. Anxiety gave way to excitement, which then gave way to unbridled terror, then a giddy sort of laughter that wanted be released. Pushing this all aside, Dean pressed his foot against the gas pedal and joined the freeway.

~****~

Castiel waited on the corner of the busy street, taking in the sounds of chatter from patrons and street vendors. People laughed and talking, vendors selling things of all sorts, from knitted hats and gloves to hot mulled wine. A young man a few feet from Castiel strummed a guitar with relaxed skill and sang along. As he passed, Castiel dropped a five-dollar bill into the open guitar case. The man looked up with a pleasant smile and continued to sing.

Despite being such a small town, downtown was always bustling, the streets always filled with smiles and laughter.

The air was crisp and cold, with evening already sweeping through the sky. Burrowing into his thick scarf, Castiel scanned the street for Dean. The shops helped light the sidewalk, casting a warm glow over everything. He kept his breath even, trying hard to ease his frayed nerves. Castiel had spent a whole hour trying to decide what to wear, stopping short of calling Anna for advice.

Rocking back on his heels, Castiel watched a young girl pull her mother by the hand towards a street vendor, who’s cart held an assortment of bright paper lanterns. The girl was enthralled by the lantern, eyes wide and mouth open in a circle. Her mother watched her reaction, smiling softly to herself. The vendor grinned down at the little girl, who continued to ogle at the magnificence of the light. She turned with hopeful eyes, but her mother already grimacing touching the pocket that must have held her wallet, shaking her head slightly. With sad understanding, the girl left the vendor, returning to her mother.

“Wait!” Castiel could hear the vendor faintly call, stopping the woman and girl.

He rooted around the cart before producing a small, blue lantern, painted with green and pink butterflies. Crouching down to meet girl’s eyes, the vendor offered the lantern to the girl. She timidly stepped forward and looked at the man shyly before taking the lantern. Her mother stepped forward, hand reaching for her wallet, but the vendor stopped her with a hand. She seemed insistent, but so did the vendor. Castiel could see the woman’s lips form the words “ _Thank you_ ” as her daughter’s face broke out into a toothy smile. The vendor smiled back and waved goodbye, the little girl pulling her mother away from him and his cart.

Warmth flooded Castiel’s heart as he watched the events unfold. He felt himself smile as he witnessed the scene.

“Cas!” A voice calling his name snapped him out of his reverie.

Dean jogged over, looking effortlessly windswept with those startlingly green eyes and plump lips. He was dressed impeccably, somehow managing to look comfortable, and also incredibly stylish with his snug jeans and fitted button down, beneath his leather jacket.

Castiel’s tongue felt suddenly heavy with surprise. “Hey, Dean! How are you?”

A sweet and charming smile tugged at Dean’s mouth, making Castiel’s heart ache with sudden want. What Castiel would give to see that smile everyday.

“I’m good, thanks,” Dean replied. “Sorry about being late, there was some traffic getting on the highway. I got here as soon as possible.”

“Don’t worry,” Castiel said. “I’ve been here for only a few minutes. You ready to go?”

Dean nodded and the pair set off down the street, shoulders gently brushing, hands almost touching.

As they walked, Dean filled the silence with mindless chatter about his students and the high school. Castiel smiled and listened intently, commenting here and there, laughing at mischief of Dean’s art students.

They arrived at the quaint restaurant, both amused by the strange ambiance it provided. Darkly lit with a red glow, each wall was covered with framed posters and photographs of celebrities and modern art. Small statues and cardboard cut outs of icons were placed at the edges of rooms. The tables and chairs were positioned strategically, allowing room between patrons for waiters to move by. Mix and matched cutlery were laid out at the tables, alongside linen napkins and cow-shaped salt and pepper shakers. Soft, music played, a man singing in Italian, just audible over the noise of the customers.

A waiter quickly seated them, handing menus out and setting glasses of water on the table. No sooner than thirty minutes later, they had hot plates of chicken and mushroom, with a side of artichokes and dried tomatoes.

“I never asked you, Cas” Dean started. “How did that chapter go? Did Anna like it?”

“She loved it,” he said around a mouth of chicken. “She was enthralled, even though it was a little late. According to her, we only need a few more chapters, and we’ll be able to pitch it to a publishing company.”

“That’s fantastic!” Dean grinned. He lifted his drink to Castiel. They gently clinked glasses. “To your forthcoming novel. Congratulations.”

Castiel sipped his Pepsi. “What about you? Anything exciting coming up at the school?”

A look of humored strain enveloped his face. “The art classes are putting together a gallery walk for the parents. I want to showcase their best work that they’ve created over the past few years, and hopefully help boost their confidence when it comes to people critiquing and viewing their work. I want to get the city newspaper involved somehow. Maybe have an article before hand to bring in a crowd. These kids are talented and hardworking, they deserve the recognition, y’know?”

“That’s a fantastic idea, Dean,” said Castiel. “It’s a wonderful opportunity to give them a taste of the art world and what gallery exhibitions are like. I think the students are going to love it.”

“Would you…” Dean trailed off, the comment dying on his lips.

“Hmm?”

He cleared his throat. “Would you… maybe… want to come to the gallery?”

Castiel smiled. “Of course, I’d be honoured.”

“Awesome!” an almost boyish laugh left Dean as his face lit up. “I can’t wait! Some of the kids are showing true promise. Like Jo, she’s a family friend. Her parents, Ellen and Bobby Singer, are my godparents, it makes hers practically my little sister. She’s one of the best in the school. She’s planning on going into design for post-secondary, and I couldn’t be prouder.”

The conversation drifted from school to family, Dean sharing more on his mother and father, Castiel speaking of his brother and father.

“You have a brother?” Dean asked. “You never mentioned him before.”

Castiel shook his head, glancing down at his empty plate. “His name is Balthazar. He’s eccentric and travels a lot. I hardly ever see him in the year, usually only during holidays and what not. Sometimes I get postcards, on my birthday.”

“Isn’t that a little lonely?” Dean sounded careful. “I can’t imagine staying so secluded and distant from my family.”

“It can be lonely sometimes,” he responded, eyes still on his plate. “It doesn’t bother me too much. I’ve grown to be more of an introvert over time, and I tend to find more comfort in solitude. But I’ll admit it was the worst after-” Castiel stopped himself abruptly.

Dean leaned forward a little, eyebrows creased. “After what?”

Castiel smiled weakly, scratching the back of his head. No, a first date is definitely not the right time to bring up an ex. “Nothing, don’t worry about it. It’s getting crowded in here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” he agreed, visibly surprised by the sudden topic change. “How about we get the check?”

There was truth behind Castiel’s conversational side-step. The restaurant was filled with more noise and patrons, who started squeezing into any available space. Castiel agreed, glad for the change of topic. They hailed down their waiter and paid the bill before stepping out into the cold night.

Maybe he shouldn’t have even thought about his ex. That was stupid to almost mention. Castiel wanted to turn back the clock and undo those few seconds.

“It’s damn cold out here. My car is pretty far away, it’s crowded out here tonight,” Dean said, pulling his jacket collar up against the wind. “We’ll have to cut through the part if you don’t mind. There’s a look out at the top that’s absolutely breath-taking.”

Something down the street caught his eye. “Yeah, that sounds good, just give me a minute.” Castiel walked quickly to the small street vendor cart with the beautiful paper lanterns. The kind man running the cart had started packing away the items for the night.

“Hello! How much for one of these?” Castiel asked, glancing over two circular orange ones.

The vendor blew hot breath into his hands before replying. “That’ll be seven dollars.”

Castiel nodded. “Alright, I’ll take these two.” He pulled out a twenty, and handed it to the vendor.

“Hey, man, this is too much,” The vendor frowned down at the bill as Castiel took the two lanterns.

“It’s okay, keep the change,” Castiel said. He tried to give the man a meaningful look. He wanted to help this man, somehow.

The man’s grin grew impossibly wide with sudden understanding. “Alright. Thank you.”

“No problem at all,” Castiel responded before turning and walking back to his date.

“What was that about?” Dean had a curious smile on his face.

Castiel handed one of the lanterns to him. “Just needed some light.” Dean laughed softly to himself before gently reaching out and winding his fingers through Castiel’s. There was something unsure but confident about the gesture that made Castiel’s stomach jump in excitement.

The pair walked down the sidewalk, taking in the chatter and excitement of the street-goers. Despite the hour slowly creeping to nine at night, people continued to roam the streets freely without any care whatsoever. They stopped at a street vendor selling hot mulled wine before continuing. The flavours of cinnamon and brandy swirled in Castiel’s mouth, making the evening even more pleasant and atmospheric. He followed Dean past downtown to a small park just a few blocks away. Illuminated by a few black lampposts, Castiel made out the dew-covered benches and cement pathway. The massive trees that shaded them had lost many of their coloured leaves, which now lay in hectic, enormous piles off the path. Occasionally, Dean would wander off the path to observe a tree, often meandering and tracing his hand along the bark, gazing up at the stars between the empty branches. Castiel watched him fondly. They continued down the path, only stopping as they crossed a stone bridge. Beneath them, Castiel watched the slow trickle of a faint river. The water glistened and flashed with the orange lamppost light as it flowed between rocks and stones.

In the distance, below the park, downtown and its street lights sparkled. The sound of cars came and went, and the noise of the city was a faint echo. It was peaceful, almost wistful. Castiel felt as though the silence was begging him to do something.

“Dean, remember when we were talking, that night that we first met?” Castiel said softly, not wanting to break the atmosphere. He leaned against the metal railing of the bridge. “I talked about my book, and what got me writing.”

Dean nodded, leaning next to him. “World-shattering-heartbreak, I remember.”

“Well,” Castiel swallowed. “That heartbreak… I’m over it. Completely. But sometimes I remember all the pointless desperation and self beating I put myself through. It was unimaginably painful.”

“Is that what you were going to mention at the restaurant?” Dean asked.

Castiel hummed. “Yes. I didn’t mean to say anything about it, I’m fairly certain that talking about exes on first dates is against the rules of dating.”

“No, it’s alright,” Dean remedied. “It obviously affected you. I mean, you wrote a book about it.”

A hollow laugh left Castiel. “Yeah. She wasn’t the driving idea and plot behind my novel. I was actually already considering writing my book and becoming an author long before we broke up. Whenever I brought it up she would laugh. She never thought I’d even get the first draft done, and I believed her. I spent three years with these ideas and concepts for novels all bottled up in my head, because no matter what I told myself, there was always her voice in my head. But when she left, it was as though a hundred-pound weight was being lifted off my shoulders. I finally felt free enough to pursue what I wanted, so I wrote a book.”

Dean was quiet for a few seconds before answering. “I’m sorry you had to endure that.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, Dean,” Castiel responded, touched by his kindness. “Besides, I got through all that shit in one piece and proved to myself that I can write a New York Times Best-seller.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth raised into a soft smirk.

“What bout you?” Castiel felt awkward for unloading so much of his tragic love life and knowing almost nothing about Dean’s. “Any terrible ands memorable exes you’d like to share with the class?”

“Definitely,” Dean chuckled. “If you have a couple hours, we can get through them all.”

“Ouch,” Castiel said, cringing a little. “That many?”

“Oh yeah,” Dean said. “But, they all were the same. I wanted something permanent, they just wanted a fling for a few months. It’s always been a recurring theme.”

Castiel smiled, “You’re in it for the long haul?”

“Yeah,” There was a wistful look in Dean’s eyes. “There was this one girl, Cassie. We dated years ago, and she was the first person I was ever serious about. I wanted to settle down with her, have a house and family. But I was moving too fast. She panicked, then I panicked, and we decided to split. She moved away a little while after.”

Castiel listened intently.

“She sent me a letter a few months ago, just to check in and see how I’m doing. She’s getting married in the summertime.” Dean laughed, but it was bitter and tinged with remorse. “What are the odds, right? She leaves because she’s afraid of commitment, and a few years later, she gets married. And while that all happens I’m still here, and I’m still alone.”

“Hey,” Castiel whispered, gently bumping shoulders with Dean. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Dean looked at him, eyes full of old, festering want. He turned his head away, back on the view of downtown. “I know,” he whispered.

They stayed that way for some time, letting silence work comfortably between them, before Dean cleared his throat. He glanced at Castiel, and that the sad smile had melted into a far more genuine and mischievous one.

“Wanna make a leaf pile?” He asked.

Castiel shrugged. “Alright.”

They intertwined their hands and walked to the nearest tree from the bridge to begin gathering leaves. Dean enthusiastically collected while Castiel used his feet to drag more and more leaves to their slowly accumulating pile. Occasionally Dean would take a handful of leaves and chuck them at Castiel, who would retaliate and kick some at him. After fifteen minutes, they had managed to make a substantial pile.

“Well? Are you going to jump in?” Dean asked.

“No, there are like, spiders and shit in there.” Castiel frowned.

“Alright,” He said, dusting his hands off.

Dean collapsed into the pile, simultaneously grabbing Castiel’s hand. Without warning, he felt his knees give out and his body lurch forward as Dean pulled him to the ground.

He landed harshly on top of Dean, arms out, trying to brace his fall. The world stopped moving, and Castiel found his blue eyes found deep green ones, shrouded in the dark night. Laughter sounded from Dean, who was flat on his back, hands clutching at Castiel’s sides in a weak attempt to steady him. At the close proximity, he could smell Dean’s cologne mixed with leather and whiskey.

The orange light scattered over Dean’s features, fragmenting every sharp angle and soft freckle. The effect was alluring, creating a stained-glass window of collected features. Castiel’s breath slowed. The amusement on the other man’s face faded, replaced with something far more thoughtful. His fingers reached up to touch Castiel’s chapped mouth, gentle and curious. Fingertips skimmed the surface, cataloguing every texture and sensation. Castiel let Dean press against his lips for a few seconds before opening them. Deliberately, Dean slid his pointer finger forward, brushing past Castiel’s teeth.

Taking this as an invitation, Castiel moved his tongue to slid up the underside of the digit. Dean shut his eyes, breath hitching. His grip on Castiel’s side tightened as Castiel experimentally swirled his tongue over the finger, feeling Dean’s muscles tighten beneath him. A soft moan left his mouth.

“Wait,” Dean whispered.

Castiel released him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Dean said. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Castiel asked.

Dean opened his mouth, but before he could answer, a bright light shone on them.

“What the _hell_ is going on here?” a low gruff voice rumbled in annoyance.

Castiel squinted up at the flashlight holder. An old man in police officer’s clothes was peering down at them. His orange beard was specked with grey, and his faced was heavily lined. While seemingly pissed off, there was mild amusement that tinkled in his eyes.

“Bobby?” Dean asked, sounding faint and embarrassed. “What are y-you doing here?”

The officer smirked. “I’m here slap indecent exposures on hooligans who think they can frolic in the park and desecrate the natural beauty of the park. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone like that, would you, Dean?”

“No!” Dean scrambled up, forcing Castiel to fall back awkwardly on his ass. “Definitely not! I just… we were…”

“Mmm hmm,” Bobby hummed, obviously not believing Dean. Castiel stood up, dusting his pants off. The officer’s nametag glinted in the flashlight’s glare, and Castiel managed to read _R. Singer._

“Honestly, Bobby, nothing is-“ Dean stuttered out a weak response. Castiel would have laughed if he wasn’t so mortified at the situation. At last, Dean sighed. “Bobby Singer, meet Castiel Novak. Castiel Novak, Bobby Singer.”

“Nice to meet you, Officer Singer,” Castiel said weakly, pushing aside his awkwardness and the fact that there were still leaves in his hair.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Castiel. You can call me just Bobby, if you’d like,” the man said.

“Castiel and I were out for a stroll.” Dean explained.

“Just a stroll?” Bobby asked, as he and Castiel shook hands. Castiel couldn’t help let out a laugh.

Dean grit his teeth. “Yes. Just. A stroll.”

“Alright, son,” the aged officer relinquished. “I’ll let you off this time. But be certain that your momma’s gonna hear about this.”

“Wait, what?” Dean almost shouted in surprise, as Castiel’s laughter grew a little more. “What am I? Seventeen?”

“No two ways about that, Dean.” Bobby explained. “It’s either I tell Ellen, and she’ll tell your mother, or I tell Mary straight away. I don’t know about you, but I’d want her to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Dean let out a resigned sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s true. Oh no, Sam and Jo are never going to let it go.”

“That’s true,” Bobby said.

“Well, we’re going to head out Bobby, I’ll see you tomorrow at the house for breakfast.”

The officer nodded. “Sounds good, I’ll make sure Jo gets up and joins us this time.”

Dean gently took Castiel’s hand and began to lead him away.

“It was good talking with you, Bobby,” Castiel said.

 He tipped his officer’s cap. “Have a safe night, kids. Don’t do anything stupid, Dean.”

Dean scoffed good-naturedly. “When have I ever done anything stupid?”

“I don’t have enough words or energy to re-tell every story, right now.” Booby said. “But I’m sure if Castiel wants, I can tell him about that time you locked yourself in the janitor’s closet at school when you were thirteen-“

“No thank you!” Dean called, practically dragging Castiel away. “Goodnight, Bobby!”

Sharp, hearty laughter sounded from the man as the pair jogged to Dean’s car.

~****~

Laughter was still tangible in the air as Dean pulled up in front of Castiel’s apartment complex.

“Thank you, Dean,” he murmured, head leaning against the cold window. “Tonight was wonderful. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting, but I enjoyed every minute of it. “

Castiel lifted his head, turning to Dean, who was gazing at him. He could already see Dean moving forward. His eyes flickered down to Castiel’s lips before capturing them with his own.

Dean gently pressed his mouth to Castiel’s uncertain, asking for permission. It was chaste and calming.

The innocence dissipated as Castiel leaned forward capturing Dean’s tongue in a desperate kiss. The force made their teeth almost clash as he pressed against Dean, fingers slithering up his shirt. Exploring the taunt muscles beneath, Castiel kept his hand tantalizingly low. The angle of their lips was awkward, but they made due, gasping against each other’s mouth. Castiel could smell the faint scent of the mulled wine on Dean, heavy and intoxicating. eliciting a soft moan from him.

In the blackness, Castiel couldn’t see the dark wild look in Dean’s eyes.

Castiel felt like he was a fuse, Dean was a match, and all they needed was some friction to set them ablaze. Dean pressed further, hand sliding into Castiel’s hair. His fingers gripped gently. They shifted, Castiel pressing further, Dean pushing back, their hands and bodies sliding into place like puzzle pieces.

Something in the corner of Castiel’s eye stopped him. Pulling away from Dean, he looked past him, through the car’s window, into the complex parking lot.

A bright red corvette with chrome edges. The license plate from California. Familiar and obvious, even in the dark of night.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered, dread crawling into his stomach. “I have to go.”

“Huh?” He whispered back. “Why?”

“Something’s come up. I don’t…” Castiel didn’t have his nerves together, in order to make an excuse.

“What is it?” Dean turned his head, trying to see what Castiel’s eyes were on. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Cas.”

Disentangling himself from Dean, Castiel stepped out of the car, glancing about himself wildly.

“Cas?” Dean asked, stepping out of the car, confused and worried

“It’s okay, Dean, I’m fine,” Cas tried to remedy while still obviously frantic. “I think someone is here to see me.”

He turned to sprint up the stone steps that led to the apartments, Dean close behind, when a woman at the top stopped him in his tracks.

With her back turned, Castiel could just see her dark with curling hair and a petite figure. Hands on her hips, her shoulders conveyed an air of poisonous charm and sophistication. She was clad in tight jeans and a black leather jacket. Her signature look.

Castiel breathed in sharply, catching the woman’s attention. She turned, showing pale skin and dark hollow eyes. Those eyes that once held warmth for Castiel now held nothing but frigid malice for him. That pretty face was twisted with ugly contempt. A wicked smile played on her lips.

“Hello, Clarence,” She said with a grin that concealed savagery.

That voice practically knocked the wind from Castiel. “Hello, Meg.”

Dean surveyed the entire scene, unsure of what to do. “Cas,” he whispered. “Who is that?”

Castiel turned to him and swallowed. “That’s my ex-girlfriend.”

 


	4. Pretty Ain't a Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which an ex returns and assumes a thorn in the side position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So here's the thing. I'm graduating high school, and completely lost my muse for spn. I'm sorry the chapter is late, but this piece is a labor of time. It took me about five months to write this.

Getting punched in the gut is possibly one of the most surprising and painful experiences one can be privileged to. It is a chaotic symphony of feelings; the actual impact that develops into pain, plaguing the midriff and lower regions of the body, the sensation of having the oxygen ripped from your lungs leaving the recipient in the charming state of gasping like a fish in the desert, and the illuminating process of thoughts that unfold like a badly done piece of origami. Thoughts like “what is happening?” Or, “how could this occur?” And quite possibly, “why me? Of everyone on this forsaken meteor, why me?”

As Castiel gazed into the wicked eyes of his ex-girlfriend, Meg Masters, he experienced the exact feeling of being sucker punched in the gut.

His breathing became uneven as a rapid-paced slideshow of their tumultuous relationship flew though his head. The exposition, the rising action, the turning point and falling actions. The disastrous denouement. Castiel was yanked back into his days of heartbreak, and was only dropped back into reality when he felt Dean’s hand on his arm.

“Cas? You in there?” He whispered, eyes still on Meg’s small form that now descended down the stairs.

“Of course he’s in there,” Meg cooed to Dean before turning to him. “Off in your little world again, Cas?”

She was just as coarse as he remembered. Castiel’s stomach clenched in anticipation of the oncoming conversation. He took in every aspect of Meg; everything was the same, her clothes her hair, even her makeup. It was as though time hadn’t passed between the two of them.

“I don’t believe we ever met,” Dean intercepted, offering a hand to Meg. “Dean Winchester.”

Meg regarded his hand before looking up at his face. It felt like an eternity before she shook his hand. “Meg Masters.”

Castiel spoke up. “Why are you here, Meg? I didn’t know you were in town.”

“I wanted to pay you a little visit, see how you’re doing,” Meg’s voice was coated in concern. “Can’t I see my ex boyfriend once in a while?”

 _No._ Castiel thought viciously. _Definitely not._ _Especially out of the blue, in the middle of the night, and coincidentally while I’m on a date._

But what instead came out through grit teeth was, “Give me a few minutes.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Dean asked. Castiel would have been beyond relieved if he could stay with him through what Castiel knew would be a grueling half hour of speaking to Meg as though she had not ripped his heart out.

“I’ll fine. Or, I will be,” Castiel pulled Dean aside, back to the Impala.

“You look pretty shaken.”

“I feel pretty shaken,” he said honestly, leaning against the car.

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. “Do you know what she wants? At all?”

Castiel shook his head, eyes on the pavement.

“Do you need me to stay?” Dean asked cautiously. Castiel looked up, feeling a rush of gratitude for him.

“Thank you,” he responded. “But, I can’t ask you to do that. It would be…” _Weird? Awkward? Uncomfortable? All three?_ “It’s not your battle.”

Dean nodded apprehensively. “I never had the chance to give you details on the gallery. You know, time and place. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow at the café?”

“That sounds fantastic,” There was clear relief in Castiel’s voice. “What time works for you? Ten? Nine?”

“After school works better,” Dean smiled. “But, whatever it takes to see you again.”

Heat crawled up Castiel’s neck as he looked away. “Oh, come on, you’re just saying that to get in my good books, you sap.”

Dean snickered, shifting his weight. “So, three?”

Castiel nodded. “Three sounds good.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Dean bit his lip.

“So?” Castiel crossed his arms. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Dean grinned and leaned forward, gently pressing his lips to Castiel’s. There was still tension created by Meg’s hovering presence, but Castiel managed to sink comfortably into the warmth.

The impala turned around the corner, taking with it all of Castiel’s confidence.

“So, honey?” Meg called. “Are you going to invite me up or not?”

Groaning internally, Castiel turned back to his ex-girlfriend. Afraid of saying something he did not mean, he gestured to the front door. “Care to join me for a bit, Meg?”

That vicious smile returned. “But of course, Cassie.’

Castiel grimaced but managed to supress shuddering. The familiar feeling of digging his heels in and bracing himself against a violent storm returned. Something Castiel had not felt in a very long time.

Breath trapped against his ribs, Castiel walked into his apartment.

~****~

“Charming,” Meg said while scanning Castiel’s apartment ceiling to floor. It was cozy with plenty of shelves with books, and little knick knacks Castiel had collected over the years. A leather couch was positioned next to the wide window on the other side of the room, paired with an ornate reading lamp.

She shucked off her leather jacket and tossed it to the couch, revealing a lacy red blouse. Meg walked about the room, eyeing every little detail.

 _Just admit you hate it._ Castiel thought coldly as he poured whiskey into two glasses. “Thank you, I picked out the decorations.”

“I can tell.”

 _Ouch. Walked into that one_.

“Meg,” Castiel handed her the drink. He felt his already worn out patience dissolve. “What are you actually doing here?”

She was the image of innocence. “What? You don’t think I want to visit you? Give some time to me dear old ex? See how fame is treating him?”

The switch in Castiel’s head flicked. “Is this about my book?”

“Your book?” Me’s eyes widened. “Don’t be ridiculous, Cas. I didn’t even know you published your novel until I a month ago while I was in Barnes and Noble. But you’re right.” She raised her hands. “I’m not here to I wanted to talk about our split.”

He said nothing, but merely sipped his whiskey.

“It was definitely unpleasant, I’ll admit, but I think we can both learn from what

Castiel crossed his arms. “It was worse than unpleasant, Meg. You yelled at me and left in the night.”

“That’s all in the past, doll-face,” Meg sidled up to him with her drink, and Castiel could not help but lean away.

“Forgive me for not sharing the same opinion,” He said. “I can’t forget as easy as you.”

“Oh, come on, what about time healing all wounds?” She leered. “Aren’t you even the slightest bit interested in what I have to say?”

 _No. Nope. Nada. Nuh uh_. “Fine. I’ll give you five minutes.”

She grinned, all teeth and cat-like. “I’m not interested in getting together again – no, don’t roll your eyes, Cas, I’m serious – I just want to be around you! I miss your company, your friendship, your witty remarks…” She gazed up at Castiel. “Don’t you at least want to be around each other?”

Something twitched in Castiel’s chest. His heart ached not with want, but with remembrance of every night of anguish and grief. Of questioning what he had done, and how he could have made Meg happy, and whether or not they could have ever been happy.

“No,” Castiel found himself saying. “No, I don’t.”

Meg’s sickly-sweet façade melted away. The innocent gleam in her eye was replaced by a hard glare. Her lips twisted into a thin white line, and her shoulders instantly stiffened. Castiel felt as though he had unmasked the villain at the end of an episode of Scooby-Doo. The monster was truly in view now.

“Cassie,” she cooed. “Come on. You need to make decisions that are good for you. Good for us.” Meg corrected.

Castiel cringed. “Good for us,” he echoed. “Lucky for me, I don’t have to think about what’s good for you, Meg. Not anymore.”

The muscle in Meg’s jaw stood out.

“It’s rather late, isn’t it?” Castiel obviously glanced at his watch. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

That really did it. Meg’s face burned red like a cherry, and her eyes fractionally twitched. Instead of exploding, Meg took a deep breath through her nose. Castiel could practically see her counting to ten in her head.

“Fine.” The word was sharp. Then the walls came back up, composure and faux-sweetness sweeping over her features. “I do have an appointment I have to get to, thanks for the lovely time, Cas.” She put down her full glass of whiskey.

Castiel quickly escorted her out, almost dragging her to the doorway. Meg’s hand slapped against the door, stopping him from slamming it in her face. “I mean it when I said it was wonderful to see you.” But somehow the tenderness of these words was lost in her malice.

“Right,” Castiel managed to say.

“Take care.”

“Will do.”

The door was closed. Castiel was finally alone. He pressed himself against the door, trying to catch his breath that would not come.

“Jesus,” He murmured to himself. His mind raced over every detail, every little thing the evening had to offer until he settled on one idea.

“I need to call Anna.”


End file.
